


Legacy of Lust

by dream56



Category: Hetalia: Axis Powers
Genre: Anal Sex, Condoms, M/M, Rimming, Smut, ball worship, musk, pec worship
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-30
Updated: 2018-03-30
Packaged: 2019-04-14 18:05:52
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,840
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14141580
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dream56/pseuds/dream56
Summary: Rome offers Germany the opportunity to indulge in his deepest fantasy. Germany can't find it in himself to refuse.





	Legacy of Lust

Titanic clashes. A pinnacle of culture. Power stretching over millions. Victory after victory. Germany had spent his boyhood idolizing the legends of ancient Rome, the empire that connected the seas, that had brought civilization after civilization to its knees. He had dreamed more than once of meeting the great man himself, the battle-hungry, bronze and brazen statue of a man, who could stretch out his arm and empty the sky itself of stars.

Yet.

Here he was, the beginnings of a headache forming behind his eyes and traveling towards his temples, sitting on his bed in the middle of the night with his idol standing in front of him, and begrudgingly listening to this once great, dirty old man prattle on about filthy things. What had happened? Where had the man of subjugation and glory gone? Germany rubbed the bridge of his nose.

“So there I was, right,” Rome said, hands out, gesturing, “with this beautiful girl from Carthage on one side of my cock and another beautiful girl from Constantinople on the other side of my cock. And I thought, that must be a symbol or something and while they weren’t very good, they still hadn’t learned not to use their teeth, it made the whole experience better when I realized it, almost like a sign of promise and fertility, which, if I’m telling you the truth, I never had any problem with from the start. It was always a rut with me, no problem, anywhere at all, behind the marketplace in the back of a melon stall, lounging on a veranda in my palace while some shy virgin played with my balls, or right out in public occasionally, or not so occasionally since it tended to happen an awful lot when I got in the mood, and you know, I just couldn’t wait until I got somewhere secluded, that just wouldn’t have done, I needed relief right then and there and of course no one would have refused me because—“

“ _Would_ you _please_!”

Rome blinked, quiet for a moment. A wide smile spread across his face. “Ah, my friend, I’m sorry. Have I made you jealous? Not everyone has had as many rich experiences as I have.”

“No!” Germany erupted. “I did not ask to be treated to your debauchery! Especially not early in the _morning_!”

“Ah, but it’s so much fun…” Rome scratched at the scruff on his chin. “I haven’t had a captive audience for many a year and thought I’d catch up. I haven’t even gotten to the really out-there stuff.”

“Well, please don’t. You’ve already wasted enough of my time with this garbage. I can’t concentrate on any of it.”

“Hm…could it be…”

“What?” Germany said slowly.

“Could it be…you’re pent up?” Rome looked intently into Germany’s face, investigating the frustration he found there.

“ _No_!”

“Ah! That’s it then. I knew I’d figure it out!” Rome nodded. “You desperately need relief. I remember when I got into states like you’re in now, all exhausted and droopy-eyed and tired. Your muscles are probably just aching for the chance to bury your boner in some fine piece of flesh, just crying out for rejuvenation. I’m right now, aren’t I? Tell me I’m right.”

“ _The old horn-dog,”_ Germany thought as Rome looked expectantly into his face.

“No,” Germany said. “I’m not pent up. I am not sexually aroused at all, _thank you_.”

“Not at all? You mean, nothing I’ve been telling you about has been effective? Not even the story about the girl from Cyprus who could put her ankles behind her head?”

Germany gave no indication the girl from Cyprus had worked. Rome paced around.

“I thought, you know, maybe if I told you some stories about things I’d done, you know, you might feel in the mood to indulge in a little masturbation, make you feel better. Though…no, that’s a lie, I just wanted to talk about this one girl and that led to twenty or more girls she reminded me of, they all really start to blend together after a while, so I can’t be blamed for that. But really, nothing? Nothing at all has gotten you in the mood?”

“Would you please…” Germany let his head drop into his hands.

Rome was silent a moment. Germany could hear slight rustling as if Rome were adjusting the shoulders of his tunic.

“Ahh, I think I know,” Rome said.

Germany opened his eyes and found Rome had kneeled down and was peering up into his face.

“You know, I think I mentioned already I felt a little sad I never tried it with a guy since so many of my friends did and had only good things to say about it. So what do you think? Is that what you’re into? Maybe we can help each other out?”

“Are you seriously asking—“ Germany sat up straight.

“You know, like you scratch my back and I scratch yours,” Rome twirled his finger, “except it would be our cocks and it would be more involved than just a little bit of back-scratching but who knows, it might be fun, right? You’re pent up, I can tell that for a fact from the way you keep crossing your legs, and I’d get to try a new experience, which, let me tell you, is a rare occurrence for me since I’ve tried almost everything you can think of and some of it was nice and some of it was _really good_ but for the most part it was bland and forgettable but I have to admit I’m kind of getting excited about—“

“Why on _earth_ should I do _anything_ with you?!” Germany stood up suddenly, barely knocking Rome off balance who teetered and then fell back on his butt. “Are you that sex-starved that you’d ask a perfect stranger to bed?”

“No,” Rome said, “well,” he looked at the paneling of the ceiling, “maybe yes, but I thought it would be a good experience for you, you know, just getting used to relieving yourself since you honestly seem a little stuck up and I’ve got all the experience to help you solve your problem there. And besides…” Rome got to his feet and brushed his butt off, his voice drawing out to a murmur, “…who knows, maybe some of my power, some of my success would rub off on you…”

Germany took a hard look at the man in front of him, a hard look that barely concealed suspicion and annoyance. But what it also badly covered up was the slightest glint of curiosity, a curiosity that betrayed the remnants of a childhood fantasy at work in Germany’s mind.

“Now see!” Rome said, pointing at Germany’s face, “I knew you’d be interested. No one can resist my beautiful body, my incredible charm. And to be honest, most of the world powers that came after me were people I slept with so there’s probably some truth in that. Maybe my dick has magic power powers, I don’t know.” Rome began energetically waving at his crotch as he continued talking.

Germany covered his face. “If you wouldn’t mind shutting up for _just_ one moment…”

Rome did as he was told, expectant, his body now seemingly brimming with energy like a pet awaiting a treat.

“You’re suggesting,” Germany continued, “that if I were to…do…things with you, perhaps some of your strength…or, to put it another way, your _prestige_ would…transfer or…’rub off’ on me?”

“I mean, I can’t say that’s not a possibility.” Rome looked at the ground, weighing the options on his palms. “Crazier things have happened, you know? So why wouldn’t it be possible? Who knows, maybe if you get up close and personal with my cock, you’ll also get its blessing. And if not, no harm done.”

There was a painful silence as Germany’s eyes darted down from Rome’s face to Rome’s pants. Could it be possible? Was it even feasible? Germany admitted there were things that existed beyond his imagination and that the raunchy pervert in front of him still had an edge of valiant gleam about him, as though the man Germany had fantasized about for years were still somewhere inside the Rome he saw now. And even if there was no truth in it, Germany rationalized, he had seen the studies of the health benefits of…ridding oneself of libidinal frustrations…and, an echo of an echo in his mind quietly whispered, it would be the only chance to act out that one, particular fantasy that eased him to sleep for years…

“What…what would this involve?” Germany said, his shoulders releasing the slightest bit of tension.

Rome looked like he’d won the lottery. “Oh, no worries from you, I’ll tell you what to do since I can tell you’re inexperienced and don’t really know your way around a man’s body but I definitely know what I like and can guide you no problem and after all, I’ll take care of the rest. This is just practice for you and oh! I’m so _excited_.”

Rome immediately began to strip and Germany panicked.

“Wait, wait wait wait, what about Italy, he’s right—“

“Oh, my grandson?” Rome peeked around Germany at the blissfully sleeping young man curled up in Germany’s bed-sheets. “A typhoon couldn’t wake him up. I’m sure a little bed creaking isn’t going to be a problem. Besides,” Rome leaned in to Germany’s ear, “doesn’t it make it hotter? To risk getting caught? You feel it, don’t you, the hot bubble in your stomach, that persistent pressure in your chest, knowing something’s wrong but _loving_ it…”

Germany felt his heart rate rise and Rome smirked, feeling Germany’s breath quicken against his face.

“I thought so,” Rome said. “But,” his voice brightened, “Italy won’t wake up. You can be sure of that. So no worries there.” And he laughed, the cheerful sound seeming to fill Germany’s mind, pushing against his reservations. It was hard not to get swept up in this man’s charisma.

“So how…do we…?” Germany’s mouth was dry.

“Relax, relax, I said I’d tell you what to do,” Rome said, resuming removing his shirt, revealing for the first time his naked body. He continued with his pants and shoes until he stood fully on display.

Germany couldn’t keep his eyes from scanning, checking his view against his expectations. Whatever the pretense Rome had given of being a dirty, old man, his body belied it, looking as good a shape as Germany could have imagined. The muscles were fully defined, his chest wide, his legs and thighs weighty, and his skin a healthy tanned bronze, if perhaps a shade or two lighter than it was in his prime. Germany had already gotten to the main attraction, hanging heavy, when he flicked his eyes back up to Rome’s face. He found Rome watching him, a knowing smile glittering in his eyes.

“You’re not the first one, you know,” Rome said, posing akimbo, “to lose themselves, to be entranced by my perfect, sculpted bod.”

Germany, for once, blushed. “I need to get used to what you look like, otherwise, I won’t know what I’m doing…” He mumbled.

“Oh, you’ll have plenty of time to get to know my body,” Rome said, advancing on Germany who hadn’t yet removed a single piece of clothing. “Why don’t I get to know yours as well?”

Germany’s heart was beating out of his chest as he watched Rome, his idol, his ideal, slip his tan hands under the loose black tank top he was wearing. Rather than take it off, Rome continued sliding his hands up Germany’s body, his palms patterning to the muscles of Germany’s stomach, his ribs, his pecs, and finally, to his shoulders, at which point, the tank top had gathered up on Rome’s wrists and he lifted it off Germany’s neck.

Rome kneeled again, again smoothing his hands against Germany’s smooth body, this time downwards as he tucked his fingers into the waistband of the shorts, his fingertips pressed into Germany’s hips. It was agonizing, painful to see how slow Rome took those shorts down, evidently enjoying with sheer amusement the effect it had on the young, blond man breathing heavily above him. The shorts slid with more friction than they should have with Rome’s fingers prolonging the tease, descending beyond the ridge of Germany’s butt, the light thatch of hair near Rome’s lips, and the long, half-hard cock already threatening to bounce into Rome’s chin. Rome collapsed the shorts at Germany’s ankles and Germany stepped out of them, apprehension eating his chest.

Rome smiled. “You’ve got a nice one, good color and…” Rome leaned in, his nose coming in contact with the head, the contact electric, static, through the rest of Germany’s body, “…smells good too.” Half-hard became achingly erect and Rome put a finger to its side, pushing it lazily. “Now, now,” he said, “not too fast.”

Rome stood, close enough to Germany’s face it took very little to see the pitiful pools of desire in his eyes, his face full of it, a longing for touch that defied reason, a desperate want to consume the man in front of him. Rome had seen the look before but was nonetheless charmed at the genuine and unique sincerity apparent in the present case.

“Ah, you’re looking like I mortally wounded you, don’t look too sad. Let’s start slow and we’ll get down to business soon enough.” Rome moved around Germany and sat on the bed, grasped Germany’s hands and eased him onto his knees.

“Now,” Rome said, spreading his legs wide, “taste me.”

Germany hesitated. Taste where? He couldn’t pick a place to start, slightly raised up, only to fall back again.

Rome leaned forward and firmly placed his hand at the nape of Germany’s neck, who relaxed as the older man steered him toward his starting point. His lips closed in on Rome’s chest and when they reached a nipple, the pressure loosened, Rome’s hand slipping down onto Germany’s shoulder blades, etching circles on their sharpest points.

The experience was as Germany had predicted it, the off-salty taste of skin, the rigid texture of Rome’s nipple, and the expanse of other chest to be ventured onto, but there was something else. The scent. He hadn’t noticed it before this. Now, it seemed everywhere, seeping from Rome’s body like a faintly clouded light, as if Rome had pressed Germany’s face past the bubble where that smell was irrelevant and now he had it working into the young man’s nose from his pits, his chest, and below.

Each waft inspired hunger, thirst in Germany, now sucking Rome’s nipple like a rose-gold gift, the wideness of it, the thickness of the nub. Before a hard stretch of flesh, Germany could feel the skin heating up, smoothing out, a paradox considering how fully erect the nipple was now, its circumference dipping in and out of the attention of Germany’s tongue.

“ _Ahh_ , my friend,” Rome breathed, “I see you’re finally getting into the spirit of things. But don’t just give that part all the attention. Other parts might get…jealous.”

Germany could feel one part in particular defiantly pressing into his stomach, agitated and demanding interest, investigation. But Germany needed to follow the trail of that scent and as he released Rome’s nipple in favor of the other one, giving it the same treatment, his mouth began to chart its course down the length of his idol’s burning body.

Rome stared at the ceiling, smiling, his hands still playing around Germany’s back, tracing to the top of his spine and back outwards again, lingering now and then on the back of Germany’s neck, the fluctuating pressure persuading Germany not to take too much of his time, not to hold up the future feast. Rome himself let his mind drift over all that exposed skin, the creamy continent beyond the blond’s shoulders and, Rome’s eyes darting downward, that slope down the back to the butt.

Each new and unexplored inch of chest called to Germany, a magnetism increasing the more Germany consumed of the sweet sweat, the previous lip-length of abdomen the reason for the next. He felt justified in giving himself to it, as a matter of personal curiosity, to reach the bottom, to see for himself how deep this man went, how even his shallowest sections could engulf Germany’s entire being, soaking him in suddenness, pinpointing his lust.

By now Germany had reached Rome’s waist, was nearly face to face with the impatient glory of Rome’s lap, a package he refused to look at until he was ready. For now his lips had slanted onto the shelf of Rome’s pelvis, first the right side, then, navigating around the thick cock aimed at his neck, the left. Germany lifted his hands and reached around for Rome’s ass, ready to sink his fingers into every square inch of flesh, but he startled when Rome intercepted his wrists.

“No, no, my friend, you can only use your _mouth_. It’s more _fun_ that way.”

Rome relaxed his grip as Germany pulled back his hands, his mouth already migrating again to Rome’s thighs. Free of the threat to his ass, Rome enjoyed the view as Germany closed his eyes, slid his cheek against the smooth expanse of Rome’s thigh, the soft, sparse hairs adding texture as well as tingle. He allowed the edge of his mouth to trail out to Rome’s knee, then slowly slip back, finally, finally in the crook of Rome’s lap, his other cheek within grinning distance of his real goal.

“Now you’re ready, I think,” Rome said and smoothed Germany’s untidy hair down on the side, his thumb caressing Germany’s temple in oblong ovals.

Germany opened his eyes a smidge, then a bit more, adjusting his gaze to the glad project awaiting him, the monumental cock jigging every half instance, eager to be spoiled or to subdue. His nose next to Rome’s low, heavy balls, near the base of Rome’s thick, pulsing dick, half buried in the dark mass of dense hair crowning his tools of conquest, Germany couldn’t ignore it anymore. The _smell_. It was a scent he knew well. It had been everywhere in the locker rooms and gyms he frequented, the shower mist mixing with musk, worn jockstraps and towels lying around soaked with it, his sidelong glances at the damp bodies emerging from showers always, he assured himself, for research sake to gauge his own physical prowess. It was an irrepressibly masculine smell, one next to him now undiluted by shower gel or body spray, now welling into his nose, overwhelming his senses, overriding the section of his mind responsible for irony.

He couldn’t help but lean further in, burying his nose into the loose folds of skin, the bridge of his nose meeting the nest of fur above, and breathing, soaking up that scent like a heavy oil permeating his body. Germany let his eyelids flutter slightly, let his eyes roll ever so gently back, and sniffed again.

Rome looked bemused. “Hey, hey now, you trying to snort my cock? No, no, I’ve got other work for you to do…” Rome’s hand found its familiar perch at the back of Germany’s head, guiding the younger man’s face, sliding his only parted lips up the long allowance of his cock, Germany putting up no resistance, only prepared for what was next.

Rome leaned in a few inches and murmured, “ _Get me ready_.”

Germany complied. Not even thinking anymore about using his hands, both firmly clenched near his ankles, he let a huff of warm breath out and Rome’s cock head responded with a perfect slick pearl of translucence, beckoning a tongue to remove it. Germany did just that, nervousness given way to naiveté. He put the plane of his tongue to the central cum tunnel of Rome’s cock, first at the start of the head, ditching up to retrieve the pre-cum, then moving back, descending, bowing under the weight of Rome’s cock on his face, his tongue tip traveling to the base.

He didn’t think he could attack at first the fullness of the big dark balls, each hanging inches below Rome’s cock, ready to swing slap-happy as it pounded mercilessly into an eager asshole. He persisted. Germany clumsily fumbled down the face of Rome’s right nut, meaning to suck but only planting taste-testing kisses, his lips not really grasping anything.

“ _No, no_ , open your mouth _wider_ ,” Rome directed, his palm at Germany’s throat, his thumb pacing open the young man’s jaw. With that, it fit and Germany could feel, almost taste, the full bank of seed waiting inside, the stored torrent of semen he’d be gifted with, the cum of an emperor pouring into him, filling him with gold, each sudden, measured spurt heavier than common spunk, each droplet weighing the tongue down, swelling sweet in the mouth.

Germany cycled from one ball to the other, not quite fitting both in his mouth, though not for want of trying. With each exchange, Rome’s cock widened imperceptibly harder, the previous drip of anticipation joined to a trickle, snaking its way down the underside of his dick, a breath away from Germany’s full and ready lips. When he felt the viscous tremble touch his mouth, Germany glanced up. Rome looked down at him half-lidded, his eyes a mix of appreciative and appraising, his tongue at the corner of his mouth, the curve of his chest now beginning to shine.

“That’s enough,” Rome said, his breath more voice than hush, but only barely. “I think it’s time _I_ be getting _you_ ready.”

With a sense of strange, pervasive loss, Germany moved his face from Rome’s junk, his body following order as Rome pulled him up, stood himself, swapped places, then bent him over the bed. Germany’s bare stomach pressed against the mattress and he clenched his toes as he felt Rome kneel behind him.

Warm, wide fingers pressed into his ass, nudging this way, then that way, gauging suppleness, softness, reflex and flexibility. Germany heard Rome, his mouth near his tailbone,

“I can say I have more experience with this part, more practice.” The thumbs slid in between Germany’s cheeks, prying them open like a fresh fruit ready to swallowed, the other fingers still sunk into the firm outer edge of flesh.

“ _Oh!_ ” Rome said, twinkles of delight threaded through his voice, “You keep it so _tidy_ back here. It’s going to be like licking a china plate clean.”

It was the face warmth first, almost like a hand, but more centralized, then the wet heat of Rome’s breath. The barest twinge of whiskers brushed against Germany’s hole as new heat was applied, soon to be inserted. It was a new sensation, as if the scalding caress of bathwater had gained sentience and was tasked with providing other pleasures. It was pervasive, addictive, each lap leveling Germany’s expectations, each sign of spit lacquered over with another warmer, impossibly hotter helping. Germany withstood the first contact, the second, his chin sinking steadily lower, the third, until it met the bed, his body growing limper, less under control as Rome pushed his tongue deeper and deeper.

Rome’s process was efficient, effective. He invaded, slid back, two, three, struck further, the rhythm of his mouth metered out, the effects multiple, showering through Germany’s body like the impact of shattering stars. Germany was hardly aware or capable of lifting his head as Rome replaced his tongue with an index finger, circling the loosened hole with his fingertip, a coating of saliva forming, evidence of his expertise as it entered without contest.

“It’s so much easier,” Rome said bending gently, “to get at these when I’m behind you.” With four fingers he pulled on Germany’s testicles. “You’ve got such cute balls hanging down like that.”

Without ceremony or warning, Rome sucked one of Germany’s nuts into his mouth. Germany jerked just slightly, his forehead still flush with the bed sheets, two rough gasps escaping from the breath he hadn’t realized he’d been holding. Rome continued, pushing his finger into Germany’s hole up to the knuckle, pulling it back, twisting his hand and curling his finger at steeper and steeper angles.

Rome swapped nuts, letting the first fall lazily from his mouth as he concentrated on the other. It was almost business-like, his concentration. He seemed to know exactly where to suck, what pressure to apply, how much was needed to loosen, relax the contents inside, prime them to deploy each precious ounce whenever he needed them. Germany’s balls gave off a weaker scent, somewhat masked by the astringent odor of soap. Rome indulged it, running his tongue across the soft, smooth pouch of skin, exploring for any whiff of that instantly vanishing scent. He watched those balls draw up in tension as their owner awaited the next connection with Rome’s mouth.

A few further sucks in, he’d succeeded in adding another finger, then another, then enough to call the job complete. Germany’s hole was second home to Rome’s digits and the erratic run-off of breath from Germany had stifled or else ceased. Rome pushed his hands up Germany’s back, up each notch of spine, then straightened his own posture, leaning up, his cock course-corrected, ready to engage.

“Are you ready,” Rome asked, “for what’s put so many on their knees?” Rome placed the thick head of his dick at the channel of Germany’s cheeks, moving in increments not seen but felt.

Germany turned his face to the side, almost facing Rome, but mostly not. “ _Yes_ , I…”

Rome’s cock surged up a full inch, not to the hole yet but ready to shortcut the space remaining.

“ _Are_ you ready? You don’t know how _long_ it’s been for me. Don’t be surprised if you’re _overflowing_ by the end.” Rome gave Germany’s ass a long squeeze.

“Wait,” Germany said, sitting up. “ _No_ …”

“No what?” Rome said.

“You…no, you aren’t allowed to cum inside.”

A grimace of shock spread over Rome’s face. “ _What?_ But that’s the best part!”

“For you maybe,” Germany said. “But I’m not taking any risks. You’ll have to meet me halfway.”

Rome sat back on his ankles. “No way I could negotiate? I know this _great_ position where the weight of rider makes them _sink_ right down on—“

“ _No negotiation_. Condom. Or nothing.”

Rome pouted. “Fine. What is this condom you’re talking about? We just had sheep skin back in the day. Not the most effective. …What are you looking for?”

Germany had reached over and was rummaging through the side table, pausing just before retrieving a single shiny wrapped square and an oversized bottle of clear, thick liquid.

“ _Ahh_ ,” Rome said. “And I thought you weren’t used to these sorts of things?”

“They aren’t _mine_ ,” Germany said, turning red. “Italy just won’t stop storing his things in my drawer.”

“ _Ah_ , my beloved grandson. He obviously takes after me. That bottle is over halfway empty.” Rome smiled happily and Italy gave a loud snore.

“Here,” Germany said, tearing the wrapper open, “just…roll that on and…we can…”

“ _No problem_ , no problem,” Rome said. “This isn’t the dark ages.” Despite puzzling at the circle of material for a moment, Rome found the process intuitive and unrolled the slick dick-cover over his cock.

“Look at that!” he said, dribbling his cock lightly with a finger. “My grandson and I even have similar sizes, though this is a bit of a stretch for me.”

Germany let himself look just once at Rome’s cock, restrained, barely, by the premium condom. Whatever the distraction of the past minute, Germany felt his own dick kick and he bent back over the bed. “ _Okay_ , now I guess we…”

“Yes,” Rome said. He resumed his station, the addition of two or three aggressive squeezes of Italy’s jug of lube oiling the entirety of Rome’s cock and, with the residual on his hand, Germany’s hole, the excess slipping down, soaking and dripping off their balls in countable intervals.

“ _Yes_ ,” Rome said, placing his cock back in the divet of Germany’s ass, the lube causing him to slide upwards, almost automatically drawing his cock into Germany’s entrance. Rome adjusted his position, their bodies perpendicular for a moment, but then leaning down and resting, flush, on Germany’s back.

Germany’s legs were shaking, unsure of when it would come, when _he_ would cum. Rome pressed his chest against his back.

“Yes?” Rome whispered. He licked his way up Germany’s neck, traveling upwards to his ear, his short rough whiskers scratching the now wet skin. “Tell me.”

“Tell…tell you what?”

“ _Tell me what you want_.”

Rome’s face was close, his body was close, and Germany could just catch the hint of Rome’s scent, a rich suggestion of the fullness of the man. All at once that smell seemed to gather up inside him, winding across his mind, the particles of his apprehension dissolving. Germany murmured, “I want… _all_ of you, _all_ of what you are… _all_ of what can give me. Give me your _greatness, everything_. I want…I want to _feel_ you inside me.”

“ _Good_.” Rome pushed in.

It was instantaneous. Even readied, even stretched, even lubed and wrapped and given the countdown, Germany wasn’t prepared for it. It was an intrusion, a thick, pulsing thrust targeting the inner limits of his body. He bent his head back, breathless, dovetailing with Rome’s neck, his interloper’s lips putting rough half finished kisses on the same spot of Germany’s neck.

Next it was fear, a natural lack of security, being suddenly so full, the pain lying in between where Rome’s cock was touching him and where it was widening him. And yet, it was confidence. Confidence in Rome’s hands, gripping Germany’s pecs, trust in the practiced machine of Rome’s lower body, in the vague awareness that where he had been opened up, soon, sooner than sunrise, he’d be filled up again by this man’s body, by his heat, by the throbbing insistence of his cock. It was confidence and it was surrender.

“I’m starting,” Rome said and pulled half his length out, having only inserted that much to begin with. Rome’s ass rose, his own hole clenching, an engine heating up, kicking to life; he began a slow, small circle of movement, pacing in, drawing out, augmenting as the circle grew larger, his thrusts more aggressive, his mind bringing him back to the countless clinging bodies that had shaped his expertise, that had built the bedrock of his bed-born prowess, the muscle memory awakening in his dormant hips.

Sliding gave way to a regular _thwap thwap thwap_ of increasing inches, familiar with the circuit of their route, which grew into a pounding, his balls more vigorously slamming Germany’s cheeks, the rest of his cock forcing further into unexplored territory.

Germany had slid back down on the bed, each full rotation, each time his ass fully encased the reach of Rome’s rod, eliciting the back half of a breath, discharging from his mouth with startling, unexpected regularity. What had been sudden hollowness had transformed into _him_ , lack traded for length, his entire frame waiting water for the ripples of Rome’s impact. Rome pounded him, each full cycle a new species of shock, a new category of forceful pleasure, a feeling of full, unsaddled surplus. Germany gave into it, his mouth half open, eyes unfocused, hands clenching and unclenching, bound to the present, each present replaced with each additional application of Rome’s unending rut.

Rome fell back into habit, a break of sweat down his back, an unthinking smile revealing his teeth. Any anxiety he’d lost his touch vanished. He was here. He was doing it. He was doing _good_ , great even, better than most could ever dream, harder than many could ever fantasize. But perhaps he was getting sentimental. However much he’d longed for this again, for those long echoes, strings of sensation rocketing out from his cock to his brain, to his nerves and toes and fingertips, however much he’d ached to put his perfect dick to good use and reduce another hapless charge to soft metal, to butter and oil, to inhibition abandoned bliss; however much he’d wanted this to be about him, only about him, his pleasure, to summon glory in the narrow limits of his dick in Germany’s ass, he missed it. He knew he still had the power to render regular men and women helpless, that much was confirmed; he missed seeing what he could give his bedmates, the locus of his desire shifting from being secure and selfish in the sensations of his own body to what could be shared.

Rome slowed, his circle interrupted. It took a good few seconds before Germany responded, turning his head slightly, his hair wet with sweat. “Is…something?”

“Change of plans,” Rome said. “I want to _see_ what I’m doing to you.”

Rome pulled out, pulled Germany up on his shaky feet, then laid him down again, stretched on his back, his legs hanging over the side of the bed. Germany watched Rome lean over him, suddenly shy about the hardness of his erection, the entirety of his body and the pleasurable paralysis he’d succumbed to minutes earlier.

“I want more of _you_ than what I can take myself,” Rome said, putting his hands on the mattress on either side of Germany’s chest. “You have to _give_ it to me.” And as if the change of position had not broken the outline of his routine, he pushed back in again, the hot head slowly then the rest of the shaft joining, his eyes fixed to Germany’s face, Germany’s eyes flitting between Rome’s face and chest before rolling back, Rome’s cock slid in back to the base.

It was subtle, not just the change in angle or an accented aim on every thrust. It seemed the center of Rome’s circle had relocated closer to the source of Germany’s reactions, smoothing out, slowing down, more attentive to what expressions it was retrieving from the younger man’s face and voice and body, more aware of which reactions it wanted to receive. Rome bent his elbows, drawing closer to Germany’s face, and felt his center ping his surprise as Germany wrapped his arms around his back, drawing him closer. He opened his mouth, paused, then put it again on Germany’s neck, the baseline set for the beat of lovemaking.

But he was still Rome. And Rome never finished like a ship drifting into mist. His was a cock of legend, a physique trained to devour. He’d savored sweetness; now he’d resume savagery.

With his wide chest pressed to Germany’s and his mouth straying closer to Germany’s, Rome’s lower body, free to continue unmonitored, picked up the slack, attacking the younger man’s ass with renewed fire, each fat pass of his cock growing sloppier, the barely distinguishable drills staking deeper. Rome loved the squelch, the slap, of Germany’s ass accepting the entirety of his erection. Germany loved how open he’d become, not pried, not even cajoled, but somehow given in to the oncoming rush of Rome’s cock, welcoming the deluge of dick and its subsequent sublime slides.

Rome played with how he bashed their hips together, jerking more forcefully out and in, more sharply pressing himself up, riding the inner boundaries of Germany’s hole. What were hours when he could ram this orifice until it ran streaming with his seed? He blinked. He’d forgotten the condom. He leaned up, breaking free of Germany’s arms, still hovering over top of him, strategizing his climax.

Germany looked up at the man. Rome had broken a sweat; the moonlight made shimmering patches of shine on his chest, flattening down his abs, his stomach. The shape of the man seemed platonically perfect, the roundness of his shoulders, the curve of his collarbone, the wide surface of his nipples. But Germany stared up into Rome’s face. It was pure concentration, utter attention, and Germany had never felt anyone spare their undivided focus on him, especially not with the simple intention of bringing them both over the edge.

The course was set. Rome picked Germany’s legs up and put them on his shoulders, kissing each calf as he did so, pressing his fingers into his thighs, and pulling Germany even further down onto his cock. His long angled thrusts shortened to tight pumps, his dick head sticking to one small area, the close pattern intensifying the assault. Rome moved one hand from Germany’s thigh to the other man’s cock, still hard and slick, and began jerking it up and down, letting the cover of foreskin, hugging the sensitive edge of the head, do most of the work. Parallel to this, Rome pushed his cock past its comfort zone, put more pressure on the spot that would leave his muscles lazy, spent, that would drive him to relief.

Germany dug his fingers into the bed, sitting up as much as he could. “ _It’s_ …” he said. His hands twitched as Rome let his foreskin glide over his head again.

“ _It’s_ …” Germany said again, his head angling back in spite of his sitting up, his breath audible, vocalizing.

Rome felt his own cock disobey him and knew. With tactical timing, he jacked Germany’s dick hard, sending the man back flat on the bed, thrust twice more before pulling out entirely, whipping the condom off his dick, and coating Germany’s balls in a curtain of cum. Each thick burst from his cum spout added another heavy rope, soaking Germany’s nuts, the inevitable excess sliding down the young man’s cheeks, dripping off into the rivulet of his ass. Rome emptied his balls, the full storehouse of semen drained, his account overdrawn and dry, his fat sack diminished slightly, the results a creamy coating in front of him.

Germany also came, Rome’s hand helping make that necessary. Not as prolific with his reproductive material, Germany still let loose one thick spurt running over Rome’s hand, then another which made it onto his stomach, then a third spurt. Rome watched as the cum shot flew high and wide, one full stream flying over Germany’s head and landing in a neat splatter on Italy’s still sleeping face.

Rome blinked, his milky fist slipping from Germany’s cock, then started laughing, two deep chortles he couldn’t cover up, stifling the rest. Germany looked up and around, saw where his splooge landed and was horrified.

“Oh _God_ ,” he said, jumping up, rummaging in the side table for tissues, not noticing his own nuts were glazed in a much larger concentration of the same substance. Germany panicked, trying to wipe Italy’s face as if it were an operation, every speck of sperm needing removal.

Rome put his hand to his mouth, still laughing, jumping when his lips touched something slimy. He found Germany’s first jet of cum, the result of his stroking, dribbling down his fingers. He put his tongue out and cleaned his hand, aware the flavor was bitter, salty, subtle.

“ _Ah_ ,” Rome said, his fingers clear, “I, uh…have to thank you. That’s just what I needed.”

Germany, satisfied with his clean-up process, looked up. His shock over the misfire had shorted out his afterglow, but there was still an atmosphere he wasn’t falling from, a flowing feeling moving outwards. “It was…”

Rome smiled at him. “You did well.”

Germany looked at Rome’s feet. There was no protocol he knew of to diffuse the situation, for how much more dangerous it had become. “Listen,” he said, “I’m going to go wash up.”

“All right,” Rome said, eying the spent condom and what it could have caught. “Want me to come with you?”

“You already did,” Germany said, passing by, stopping dead, realizing, then moving to the bathroom and shutting the door, the back of his neck red.

Rome picked up the condom and started laughing again.

By the time Germany emerged from the bathroom, his balls and belly suitably clean and his clothes changed, he found no trace of the older man. Rome had left no card, no note, no notice of his having been there but a room higher in body heat. Germany clutched the towel to his neck, still feeling whiskered kisses. He knew that power and prowess of an old empire rubbing off on him through sex was silly. He’d known from the start. He wasn’t sure if he’d wanted to tell Rome that or not though.

The next morning Italy awoke in his usual bubbly mood, rubbing his eyes. “I had a dream about Grandpa Rome last night,” he told Germany. Germany averted his eyes, nodded, said that was nice, and excused himself. Italy watched Germany go, thought he’d looked a little funny, decided he should open the window and let in some fresh air.

Germany could for the next few days still smell Rome’s scent on him, the full bodied musk of the man still bleeding into his senses, and the weaker it grew, the harder Germany tried to remember it.

 

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> Trade story for Aizenhower.


End file.
